


Menu Preparation and the Vegetarian Table

by f_m_r_l



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 08:14:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f_m_r_l/pseuds/f_m_r_l
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cottage, a small orchard, a few hives and retirement — but there might still be a surprise or two in store for Sherlock and John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Menu Preparation and the Vegetarian Table

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kate_Lear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate_Lear/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Kate!
> 
> Thanks to Impulsereader for betaing!

John leaned against the worktop and sipped his tea while gazing across their small kitchen at Sherlock. It was a pattern they'd repeated so often over the years that there was a stripe worn across the back of John's ratty old bathrobe at just the place where the worktop hit. Sherlock, elbows propped upon the table, appeared to be completely absorbed in his avocado and sprout sandwich. Possibly he was attempting to analyse or categorize the origin of the cheese. Or maybe he was simply not yet entirely awake.

Sherlock nibbled down every last crumb and licked a smear of escaped mayonnaise off one of his fingers. Even after all this time John's heart fluttered at the sight. Sherlock passed closer to John than he absolutely needed to on his way toward sliding his dishes into the sink. He'd leave them there for either John or the end of time, of course. Decades together still wouldn't get Sherlock to wash the dishes.

John, used to their morning rituals, put his own mug of tea to one side, safely out of the way. Sherlock took a moment to press against John, nose buried in his hair, arms pulling him close. Once, long ago, Sherlock had murmured "Of all of the people whose acquaintance I have ever made, I find your presence the least objectionable." John had looked up to see the trademark smirk and known all the things that Sherlock meant. He'd also known that Sherlock would expect him to remember. Now they just held each other, for a moment, before they both went off to get dressed for the day.

Sherlock was dressing in his work clothes. It would either be the bees or the orchard today. Before they had retired to this cottage, John had assumed that bees made honey, orchards made fruit, and humans just stayed out of the way and left them to it until harvest. But Sherlock could fuss endlessly over either or both, making observations and experiments, posting his results to a web site that was now obsessively followed by amateur beekeepers and people passionate about their fruit trees.

As Sherlock turned and headed toward the stairs, John called out "Off to the shops" and watched for Sherlock's nod. John could linger by the window and see if Sherlock was pulling on his beekeeping gear or heading toward the shed, but instead John donned a jacket over a cozy jumper and headed toward the village.

John had a secret, maybe even a surprise. There was a very patient young lady at the new co-op who was giving vegetarian cooking lessons. She was happy to repeat things, guide him during demonstrations, and even write things down if he couldn't catch what she was saying any other way. John was just about confident enough to try something fancy for Sherlock's birthday.

After weeks of experience, John knew that as long as he got back _after_ Sherlock had his lunch and _before_ Sherlock came in for the evening, he had plenty of time to change his clothes to keep his husband from seeing a smudge of sauce or smelling a hint of spice and guessing the whole thing. Sherlock was completely unaware of his recent activities. Or so John cheerfully assumed, pending other evidence. So following the cooking lesson he put in an order for a few specialized ingredients, grabbed the rest of his purchases, and set off for home in time to hit his window of opportunity perfectly.

The black governmental car in the driveway was a surprise, as was the neatly dressed gentleman sitting at the table across from Sherlock. The man didn't even turn as John walked in and sat his bags on the floor. He was listening intently to Sherlock. John could see that one of the words Sherlock kept using was 'no', as clearly as he could see the mask of contempt across Sherlock's face, the one he so seldom donned for anyone these days. But John couldn't make out the rest of the rapid-fire speech. Suddenly Sherlock whipped out his phone and turned away from their visitor to text furiously. John's phone vibrated.

"This imbecile thinks that if he just keeps talking long enough I'll go off and play spy games with the government. -SH"

"We could use the excitement", John texted back laboriously, wondering why Sherlock wasn't using the whiteboard. Writing would never be as fast and simple as talking had been when John was still able to hear, but it was _always_ faster than texting and more certain than John's limited skills at lip reading. Maybe Sherlock wanted privacy. Or maybe Sherlock just wanted to be obnoxious to their "guest".

"They wouldn't let me take you along. Do you suppose if we gave him some of your babaganoush he'd go away? -SH"

John glared at Sherlock. His last attempt at babaganoush was a sore point.

"War is coming. They need you there."

"I know their people. Their staff is better trained than I at what they do and should be sufficient to the job. I need to be here. -SH"

John stepped over to look Sherlock directly in the eyes. "I do not need you to stay here and take care of me", he said. He could tell that he'd said it too loudly by the way their visitor flinched. Good. Even Sherlock looked surprised. His mouth shaped the word "No." Then he looked down at the phone and tapped away for a moment.

"I need to stay here so you can take care of me. Besides, think of the bees, John. -SH"

Their visitor eventually took off, though not without leaving behind a flurry of addresses and numbers that Sherlock deleted from his phone as soon as the black car was no longer touching their driveway. John put food away as Sherlock headed out the back. A freeze was coming. There were things to be done.

**Author's Note:**

> I've based Sherlock and John's retirement (and the events therein) partially on Holmes and Watson's 'retirement'.
> 
> Some people may wonder why John doesn't sign. It's his age and his community. It is late in his life to acquire a new language, especially when the people he knows best and cares about most don't use it. I've known quite a few people who lost their hearing when they were older, but none of those who really communicated in sign.


End file.
